


Activation

by witchy_words



Series: Activation [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Coffee Shops, Depression, Dreams, F/M, Fluff, Not Canon Compliant, PTSD, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Self-Loathing, Someone needs to hug Bucky, bucky is riding the struggle bus, more characters will show up - Freeform, there's gonna be angst out the ass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-11-09 13:52:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11105898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchy_words/pseuds/witchy_words
Summary: Bucky wakes up at the edge of a river with no memory of who he is and how he got there. As he tries to figure something out he runs into someone who is willing to help, if Bucky will let them in.





	1. Longing

**Author's Note:**

> This is part one of my Bucky fic extraordinaire. I really hope you enjoy it! happy reading.

Bucky pulled his baseball hat lower over his eyes and he shouldered his way into the middle of the swarming crowd. He blended in, becoming one with the masses, almost as if it was something he'd done hundreds of times before. It came naturally although he had no idea how he had come by that skill. He didn't know anything about himself. Although something in the back of his mind told him his name was Bucky. Someone had told him that, but he couldn't remember who.

He kept his face clear of emotion as he continued with the crowd occasionally adjusting his stolen clothes. He had woken up at the edge of a body of water, bruised and insure of anything except that he had to get moving. He walked steadily with the almost endless flow of people, until he spotted a small coffee shop. The smell of pastries and rich coffee beans hit him, it was only then realized how hungry he was. He pulled out a wallet he had taken from a man’s pocket and flipped through it. There was a fair amount of cash, several credit cards, and an assortment of membership and reward cards to various stores and businesses. He decided against using any of the cards; cash seemed like the best way to go, until he figured out more about where and who he was.

He quietly ordered his coffee and a sandwich, payed in cash, and took a seat in the very back of the café with his back against the wall, so he could keep all the goings on in his line of sight. He kept a close watch on all the people who came into the building, as he tried as hard as he could to remember anything about himself. He tried to recall what had happened before he had woken up, how he had gotten himself beaten. He rubbed his forehead harshly, hoping that the action would bring back memories he knew had to be there. He glanced up and immediately locked with a pair of bright hazel eyes. Bucky jerked himself to attention. The woman in front of him raised her eyebrows.  
“Do you mind if I sit there?” She said pointing to the chair where Bucky had put his coat.  
“Oh, no, not at all.” Bucky said hastily, as he moved his coat.   
“Thanks,” the woman replied with a quick grin. “I just hate sitting with my back out to anyone. I guess you could call me the suspicious type.” She told him with a lighting fast wink. Bucky watched the girl as she sat down next to him, pulled a laptop out of her backpack. The pink tag in the shape of a cat caught his eye and brought a microscopic grin to his lips. He couldn’t help but watch this woman next to him, all other people in the shop were forgotten as he took in her features. She had a simple beauty about her, but her bright intelligent eyes pulled him in. He tried to draw as much information from her appearance as he could. Her clothes went for practicality over fashion. Her graphic tee had a strange man on it advertising “free throat hugs” with an outstretched hand. Bucky didn’t understand what it was referencing, but he liked the idea that this girl had a good, if slightly dark sense of humor. She was probably about twenty-one: a college student. She was smart, just from looking at her, Bucky could tell, she was dependable and hard-working he decided as he saw her responding to brand new emails with bright ideas, and an extensive vocabulary.

Bucky turned his attention back to the bustling coffee shop, but he still listened to the gentle tapping of the woman’s fingers on her keyboard. He looked back over to her. He felt incredibly drawn to this woman whose name he didn’t even know. He decided to do something.   
“Hey,” his voice came out raspy, probably from lack of use. The girl turned and looked at him. “I’m new here to this city and I don’t know anything about it, do you think you could show me around, or at least tell me about some of the good spots?” his voice was completely level despite his brain screaming at him to not trust anyone. The woman clicked a few things and closed her laptop, giving him her undivided attention.  
“Well, seeing as I’m pretty new here myself, I don’t really know that much, but I guess we could learn together.” She said thoughtfully. “I guess that could work, yeah.” She said more to herself than to Bucky. “But first, I gotta know something about you, I mean, you could be a murderer!”  
“Yeah.” Bucky agreed quietly.   
“Let’s start with the basics: I’m Claire.” She said and stuck out her hand. Bucky took it and they shook, she had a solid handshake, and very smooth skin.   
“Bucky.” He said, almost as if it were a question.  
“Hmm, Bucky.” She said testing out the name. “I like it.” Even with her affirming words, her eyes held a question Bucky couldn’t quite figure out. “Can I get your number, Bucky?” she said stressing is name. Bucky dropped his gaze.  
“I don’t have a phone.” Claire seemed, to his surprise, completely unfazed.   
“No worries, do you just want to meet here, then? Does tomorrow at say noon work for you?” Bucky looked up at her, an almost unnoticeable smile playing on his mouth.  
“Yeah. That’s works, for me.”   
“Perfect, it’s a date then!” Claire said. “But before we go wandering the city together, I feel like I should know a little more about you. So what’s your story, Bucky? How did you end up in DC?” Bucky let out a quiet breath.   
“I don’t know. I’m really sorry. I wish I could tell you, but I honestly don’t know anything about me.” Claire’s eyes narrowed as she studied him. There was a long pause before she spoke. Bucky felt a sinking feeling in his stomach with every passing second.   
“Do you know anything about yourself? Where were you born?” She said in a gentle voice. Bucky was taken back by her grace, her kindness, and her blind faith in him.   
“He bit his lip as he tried desperately to recall the most basic information about himself.  
“I don’t know.” He finally said in defeated tone.   
“I believe you.” Claire said much to Bucky’s surprise. “With all the crazy stuff that’s been going on in the world lately, why wouldn’t I run into someone who has absolutely no idea who they are?” Her tone was completely serious. Bucky didn’t know what to say. “You do know your name is Bucky, right? You feel positive about that?” Bucky licked his lips slowly and nodded.   
“Someone told me. I don’t remember who, but someone told me. It feels right. It feels like me.” Claire nodded to this. She looked him up and down thoughtfully. “Those clothes aren’t yours are they?” she asked rather suddenly. “They don’t fit you very well, and they look too clean, while you look like you haven’t showered or slept in days. And I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess you don’t have a place to stay.” Bucky stared at her. She was incredibly perceptive. “I thought so.” She said taking his silence as her answer. “Well, Bucky, I guess today is your lucky day. Just so happens my roommate up and left me about a week ago, so I have a free room.” She observed his figure again. “And I think you two might just be the same size…” she said as if thinking out loud. 

 

\- - - 

After a shower and new clothes from Claire, Bucky felt almost human, except for his metal arm. He couldn’t bring himself to let Claire see his arm. He was very self-conscious about the metal limb, especially since he had no idea how he got it. The bright silver metal was nothing like anything he had ever seen before. It was incredibly strong, he could tell that much when he broke a shampoo bottle into tiny bits by squeezing too hard. It was completely water resistant, he realized as he stood in the shower watching the water roll right off. It also seemed impervious to damage. The weirdest part however, was the fact that he could feel with it. The sensation was slightly dulled, as if he had been injected with a numbing agent, that was starting to wear off, but he could feel with it. As Bucky dried himself, brushed his hair back and got dressed, he pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt past his fingers to cover his arm, so no glints of metal could possibly be visible. He didn’t want to share this part of him, at least not until he understood something about it. 

\--- 

The first night was the worst. The bed was comfortable, the blankets were soft. Bucky felt at peace as he lay on his back string at the ceiling, replaying the day in his head. He wished he had something to compare this day to. It was strange, but he felt happy. He was touched by this woman’s kindness to a complete stranger. He sighed to himself happily, just enjoying the feeling of being clean and happily tired. He was at peace, until he fell asleep and the dreams started.  
“Do you think begging for your life will make a fucking difference to me?” Bucky said as he held a man, no older than twenty-two off the ground by his neck with his metal arm. “You will get no pity from me.” He said as he slammed the man into the ground over and over until his was a bloody mess, his skull obviously cracked. Buck dropped the man’s lifeless corpse to the ground, and pulled a M4 Carbine from his back and started walking down the hallways shooting everyone he saw on sight. Bucky cleared all the rooms off of the hallway, until he came to the last door, he punched through the door with his exposed metal arm. As he did so he heard a small, shrill scream. He pushed his way into the room and found the source of the noise. A small frail woman was cowering behind her desk, Bucky walked around completely calm. She pulled out a small pistol on him he hands shaking viciously. Bucky let of an almost evil laugh at her attempt to protect herself. He kicked the gun from her hands, and grabbed a fistful of her hair pulling her along with his gun still trained on her head. Bring her back to us, if she causes too much trouble take care of her. She would be helpful, but she is not vital. He replayed his instructions in his head as he pulled the woman along. She whimpered when he tugged on her hair as he stepped down an alley. “Please…” she started but was cut off by a sharp smack to her face with Bucky’s gloved hand. The alleyway was seemingly empty, but Bucky knew where he was going. He turned suddenly, pulling the woman along. He dragged her down a flight of stairs that you could barely see, unless you knew to look for them. 

At the end of the stairs two guards stood and hastily opened a door to reveal a cruel looking man sitting his arms crossed. Bucky threw the woman on the floor at his feet. “Well done soldier. You know what to do, now.” Bucky turned down a corridor and entered a room that was completely empty except for a large chair with a multitude of wires and devices hooked up to it. He shed his weapons, vest and mask, and sat in the chair, as several doctors swarmed around him hooking up to various components of the machine. A man stepped up and put a mouth guard between Bucky’s teeth. “You did well, soldier.” He said with a hint of pride in his voice as the chair began to lean backwards. Bucky stared at the man before someone threw a switch and pain shot through every fiber of Bucky’s being. The pain seemed to go on forever until it stopped, just as suddenly as it had started. The chair raised again. “Soldier?” as voice asked. “Ready to comply.” Bucky answered.  
Bucky sat straight up, his eyes wide in fear. He ran his fingers across his face and attempted to untangle himself from the bedsheets. It was only a dream he told himself, only a dream. Part of him knew that was a lie. That dream was real. He knew it. He had lived it. Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, breathing hard with his head in his hands. He was starting to think, maybe not remembering anything could be better.

\--- 

 

More often than not, Bucky would be shaken awake by Claire. It took weeks before he could let her touch him in his vulnerable state. The first night he allowed her to join him in his bed after she had shaken him awake form a nightmare changed their whole dynamic.

She climbed into his bed, and sat next to him as he tried to calm himself. He had barely registered her. His hair was wild, he was drenched in sweat, scared of himself. He had glanced down and saw his metal arm, making a whole new wave of fear and self-hatred wash over him. Before he could stop them hot angry tears were pouring down his face mingling with the sweat already there. Bucky had been growing accustom to being woken by Claire in the middle of the night from his dreams, but this time it was different, usually his dreams were memories. Things he knew he had done, terrible, awful things, but this time it was different. It had been Claire.

He was kneeling over here, spewing hatred from his mouth and choking the life out of her with his shiny metal arm. Being woken by her, seeing her, it brought it to life. He was terrified of hurting her, but she wasn’t scared of him. She wiped the tears from his face, and brushed his hair back.   
“It was you. It was you. I-I couldn’t stop myself.” Claire shushed him.   
“It wasn’t me, not really. It was a dream Bucky, everything is okay. I’m safe. You won’t hurt me.” She said in a soothing voice. Bucky laid his head on her shoulder, and sobbed. He couldn’t help it. So many fears, and anxieties had mingled with his self-hatred. It was bad enough when his past came back to haunt him, when every night he remembered a new mission he had accomplished as the Winter Soldier, but when his life was slammed together with that? That was too much he couldn’t handle it anymore. Claire had pulled him into a hug, smoothing his hair and rubbing his back. Somehow they had ended up laying down, Claire holding him as he eventually fell asleep. From that night on, every time he woke up screaming, Claire was there to hold him, to comfort him until he fell asleep again. They never spoke of it during the day, it was almost as if their nights were another reality. He did share with her, the new information he remembered about himself. They would write it down trying to put together a timeline to help him keep his past straight. 

They had grown incredibly close in such a short time, Bucky felt as if he had known her forever. Around her he felt like himself. He felt almost happy, content. That feeling scared him. It set him on edge. Bucky knew he didn’t deserve love, he didn’t deserve happiness, but he stayed. He stayed for her. He stayed as long as he could convince himself good was coming out of it.

 

\--- 

 

Bucky stretched and yawned as he woke up. He looked to his left and saw Claire there sprawled across most of the bed deeply asleep he grinned sleepily and got out of bed. He stumbled into Claire’s kitchen and poured himself a strong cup of coffee. AS he sat at the table he realized this was the first time in two months he hadn’t woken up tangled in the sheets, sweating and breathing hard. No dreams. Ever since he had moved into the vacant room in Claire’s apartment he had been woken in the middle of the night by his own screams. His dreams plagued him with images of his own hand snuffing the life from so many people.

 

Last night, he had asked Claire to just sleep with him, in the purest sense of the phrase. That was the only night since he has first met her that he slept dream free. 

As he played this over in his head, he heard the soft padding of Claire’s feet come into the kitchen. He grinned as she passed him and ruffled his hair. There was never much conversation between them in the morning when they were both still groggy. Bucky held his attention to his coffee cup as a terrible thought struck him.

He had fallen in love with her. A hole had been filled in him. A longing quenched. This wasn’t something he deserved. He needed to go. He needed to leave, before he hurt her. He needed to leave as soon as he could. He knew it would devastate, Claire. He didn’t know where he could go, but he knew he didn’t deserve this, as much as she had told him he did. This life wasn’t for him. After all he had done, the countless lives he had taken and destroyed, he didn’t deserve goodness. He bit his lip nervously. Claire was going out work today. He could leave while she was there. It would be the best. IT would be good for her. She shouldn’t have to waste her life taking care of him, loving him. He shouldn’t have her love. He shouldn’t take that from her. It was wrong, dirty. He was unclean. He needed to leave before he hurt her, or tainted her. She didn’t deserve this.


	2. Rusted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky runs away from Claire when he feels unworthy of her. Flashbacks ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy my lovelies! :)

Bucky clenched his jaw and looked upwards, darning any tears to fall, as he pulled his backpack over his shoulders and took a long look around the apartment. He had to do this it was for her own good. People were going to be after him, people who wouldn’t care who they hurt or killed to find him. She would be safer if he was gone. Bucky sighed and closed his eyes tightly as he walked past the threshold of the apartment he had called home, even if it was for a short time. He couldn’t turn back now, he thought as he raced down the stairs, the faster her left the harder it would be to go back. Bucky was filled with an almost sinister glee as he saw the man who lived across the hall form Claire get out of his car. That man had caused no end of problems for Claire the least he could do was get a little payback. He waited silently as the man disappeared into the building. Bucky quickly scoped the surrounding area for spying eyes of surveillance. Upon finding neither, he quickly hijacked the car and started driving. He had no idea where to go he only knew he had to get away from Claire as quickly as possible. To keep her safe. At least util he could come back and protect her, and be deserving of her.

Bucky’s flesh hand tightened on the wheel as raindrops began plopping on the windshield. The nodded to himself was if trying to reassure himself that what he was doing was for the best. Even if it was, it hurt. It hurt more than the dreams, the broken memories, it hurt more than all the bruises and scratches on his body. Bucky was in pain. He was stuck in an inescapable limbo between being Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier. He didn’t feel right as either. He was the rusted shell of a man, neither here, nor there. Bucky felt a crunching sound, he looked down and to his dismay he saw that his metal hand had crushed part of the steering wheel. He roared in frustration, overcome with emotion. It reminded him again of why he had to leave. It was only one night, Claire had forgiven him, but he would never forgive himself. 

\---

Claire had shaken him awake for the fourth night in a row, only he didn’t recognize her. He hadn’t shaken his dream, he was still a lethal killing machine, added to the fear and adrenaline of being shaken from his dream. Her face wasn’t familiar to him, he had assumed she was a bystander who had unfortunately stumbled into the wrong place, an innocent mistake but she would have to pay. He launched himself out of bed, grabbing her by the throat and pinning her to the ground, his knee in the center of her chest. “Who are you? Why are you here?” he said, his voice was wrong, it was so low and gravely, and full of hate. His muscles were tense, as he restrained himself from squeezing the life out of this person. He thought through his mission, the people he needed to find, kill, or take. He ran through the faces that had been implanted in his head. Her face didn’t match them, she would have to pay for interrupting. There were so many ways he could end her, so many different ways: some quick, some long and drawn out, all of them painful. He decided to go for quick, he needed to continue his mission. He reached to his thigh where he usually had strapped to his thigh a wickedly sharp steel knife. Instead of the familiar handle he felt only cotton. He looked back to the girl beneath him, completely at his mercy. He had seen so many people in this position, their eyes rolling up, their mouths open gasping for oxygen that his fingers were denying them. This one was different, she wasn’t begging for her life, he had seen it enough times to know what that looked like. His fingers loosened slightly, she gasped and called out something he didn’t expect: Bucky

Everything came back to him in an instant, the river, the dreams, the girl. Bucky fell backwards off of Claire with a sudden shock of realization. He scuttled back against the wall and pulled his knees up to his chest, his breath was coming in huge wracking sobs as he apologized profusely over and over again. His hands came up to cover his head as he rocked himself, letting muffled screams out as he pulled on his hair, trying to regain himself, trying to be Bucky, to escape from his past. But this… this wasn’t his past. This was his life, right now, what he had just done to his friend, this stranger who had taken him in, fed him, clothed him, comforted him, accepted him, despite his situation, and this is what he had done. He had put her life in danger with his own hand. That beautiful piece of machinery welded to his body had almost just cost him the life of the only person that he remembered being kind to him. Bucky screamed and sobbed apologies, and he heard Claire coughing and sputtering. Those noises, those sounds he’d heard them so many times, but not as Bucky. He felt the phantom pains throughout his face from where machinery would push into his skin, emitting pulses that would race through his body. Bucky tried to take himself away, to go somewhere in his mind, to make the noise, the memories stop. He squeezed his eyes shut, his breathing accelerated. He felt panic setting in. The world was collapsing on him. 

 

Bucky flinched violently as he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He looked up through his ratted hair to see soft eyes. There was no pity in those eyes, no sense of hurt, just love. Her hands moved up to push Bucky's hair out of his face. Claire took a deep breath, never breaking eye contact with him. 

"I'm here for you, no matter what happens, I'm here." Bucky shook his head, looking away. 

"You shouldn't. I'm not worthy of you. You know what I've done. What I just did... I- I can't." his voice rose, becoming more panic filled with each word.

"You can't what, Bucky?" She asked softly, her voice completely calm, despite the quiet tears on her cheeks. Bucky shook his head. 

"No," he said, in a barely audible voice. "I can't, I'll hurt you again. I can't be here. I- I need to go. I can't..." He trailed off. 

Claire took his face gently in her hands.   
"Bucky... What is it that you can't do? Look at me." Her voice was so soft, calming, almost hypnotic. He looked up, barely meeting her gaze. 

"I can't love you." he choked out. Claire smiled at him, a small smile full of reassurance. 

"Bucky, I am more than certain that you can." She said with a small chuckle. Bucky shook his head again, squeezing his eyes shut, and balling his hands into fists.

"There's too much I have to make up for. There's too much I have to fix. I'm broken. I'm just a rusted shell. No one can love that." 

"I can." Bucky's eyes shot open, only to close again, as he felt Claire's lips press against his own. His brain completely froze. His pain was forgotten as their mouths moved together. The kiss seemed to last forever and no time at all. Bucky wasn't sure who ended the kiss, but when it did, Claire moved over to sit next to him, against the wall. She took his metal hand in hers and snuggled up to him. 

"I'm here for you Bucky, no matter what happens."

\--- 

So many sins were committed that night. He couldn't forgive himself. He had hurt her, and kissed her. She couldn't love him, no matter what she said. He didn't deserve her. That's why he was running. He had to leave her, before he gave into his feelings, before something happened, and he couldn't remember her again.   
At this point it might be better not to remember. Maybe he had chosen that. Maybe he had caused so much damage that he chose to forget, instead of life filled with regret that weighed him down until he could barely move. Bucky continued driving, as fast as he could. He needed to escape and leave everything behind. He had to go until he was certain he was completely Bucky. He had to be someone worthy of love and life. He wasn't that person, but he would find a way to be that no matter what it took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is so short. I'm going to put myself on an actual schedule, and get things out more regularly! hopefully...


	3. Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky goes to find out about his past, to not let down the people he loves, and in the process he finds a new reason to keep going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging in there, and waiting for updates. I hope y'all enjoy this chapter.

Bucky lay on his sleeping bag in an empty house, staring at the ceiling fan’s half-hearted attempts at revolving. He sighed. It had been three weeks since he had run from Claire. Since then he had filled several notebooks with memories, thoughts, and regrets. He hadn’t moved in several hours. He felt like his veins were filled with lead. His head was screaming at him, forcing him to remember everything he had done. Every kill, every time he had hurt someone, every second of HYDRA’s torture, every time he was wiped, and every second with Claire. The din was non-stop. Bucky had long since stopped trying to block it out. He lay on his back letting it consume him, as a chill went up his spine. He wouldn’t get into his sleeping bag, he wouldn’t put on a coat. He would be cold. Something had to be done to punish him for every atrocity he had committed. He clenched his fists, the voice had come back. That stupid pesky voice that continued to get louder and more persistent saying the same thing over and over: you should just kill yourself. Bucky covered his face with his hands, wishing the voice would stop seeming so logical. He was a monster. He had become HYDRA’s brainwashed killing machine, and he had a constant reminder of that fact connected to his body. That metal arm that had caused so much death was a part of him he couldn’t be separated from, no more than he could be separated from his memories. His memories still didn’t give him a full picture. He had hundreds of scattered kills, sessions of torture to break his resolve, seconds before memories wipes, but barely anything before he was turned into the Winter Soldier. He had remembered Steve.

It was hazy, but Steve was there, as a scrawny man with a busted lip and a black eye more often than not, who would always nervously sweep his hair back. There was so much emotion with no stories to go back it up. Bucky reached for his backpack and pulled out one of his notebooks, and started flipping through the pages. He remembered the most insignificant things: couch cushions on the floor, newspaper in shoes, a bear for a read head, tight hugs at a graveyard, too many applications for the army, vague double dates, and puking after a ride on Coney Island, being pulled from a table and half carried to camp by his best friend. A small portion of weight seemed to life as Bucky let himself get caught up in his fractured past. There wasn’t enough there to piece together a complete picture, he needed more. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would head somewhere that would have answers. He would get solid ideas about who Bucky Barnes really was. He needed to live. There were things he needed to do, answers he needed to find, and forgiveness he needed to earn. That stupid voice would have to shut the fuck up.

\- - -

The swarms of people created an endless buzz in Bucky’s brain he could barely focus. He much preferred the silence being broken by one or two voices. There was no silence here in Washington DC, just masses of business people, and hordes of school children with regretful chaperones. He moved soundlessly though them, avoiding all eyes. Searching for one exhibit, the one that could give him answers. Bucky wandered through the museum, sticking to the walls making himself almost invisible. He was acutely aware of everyone’s movements and actions, that was until he saw a larger than life mural depicting a group of men, and right front and center was Captain America: Steve Rogers. Bucky went through the exhibit in almost a daze. It was like being in a dream. Everything he saw and read, about Steve, the Howling Commandos, himself, it made things clearer. He felt memories come streaming back, there was so much he didn’t know he’d forgotten. His was lost in a swirl of his past. 

Bucky was abruptly brought back to reality as he felt a small tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see a little girl no more than seven with a prosthetic arm gazing up at him almost reverently.   
“I just wanna say that you’re my hero and I don’t think you’re a bad man. It was the mean people who made you that way. My mommy thinks you are mean, but I know you aren’t. You’re trying to get better, and that makes you good.” Her words tumbled out of her mouth with such speed it took Bucky a second to register what she had said. He had never felt so touched in his entire life. If this pure soul could see good in him, it had to be there.   
“Thank you.” Bucky said in a small, sincere voice.   
“Veronika!” a woman said in a harsh whisper, “Come here, now!”   
Veronika looked up at him with huge eyes.   
“I have to go now, mister.” She threw her small arms around his waist in a tight hug, then ran off to the woman who had called her. Bucky felt tears well up in his eyes. That precious child with the prosthetic arm, she was the reason he had to keep going. He was going to find out who he was, and apologize for everything he did; he would do it for her. Veronika, Steve, Claire… It was for them that he was here, continuing to fight. He was here for them. Bucky pulled out a new note book. And flipped to the first empty page. He started that page by writing the names of the three people he felt he owed. He switched back to his memories notebook and continued to write down any memories that came back to him from the plethora of pictures and objects in the museum. He stayed in the exhibit writing and getting lost in his head until the building was closed for the night. 

\- - -

Bucky sat on the floor of the abandoned building he had chosen to stay for the night, before heading out of the city. He flipped through the notebook he had filled at the museum. There were so many happy memories, so many beautiful things that he had forgotten. He felt almost content. Bucky reached into his bag and dug around at the bottom until he extracted a phone. He turned it on, watching the screen glow in almost a daze, before a tidal wave of guilt washed over him as streams of worried texts came in from Claire. Each one felt like a small punch to the gut. When the mass of texts finally stopped, Bucky scrolled through all of them, but they mostly had the same message: Please call me and let me know you’re okay. Bucky hit the call button.

The phone rang three times before he heard Claire on the other end. “Bucky? Are you okay? Where are you?” he voice was full of panic.  
“It’s alright, doll. I’m- I’m okay. I’m in DC, I just needed to figure some things out. I needed answers, and I think I’ve found some of them.” He heard Claire sigh. He could almost feel her relief. “I’m glad you’re okay, but that was such a stupid thing to do, Bucky, and I’m really pissed at you.” Bucky smiled with a breathy laugh.   
“I know. I expected as much.” He explained.   
“I understand why you had to leave, but you could have told me, you could have texted me back.” She paused, and Bucky bit the inside of his lip waiting for what she would say next. “That was really fucked up, Bucky. Leaving like that. I thought I meant more to you than that. I thought you could trust me enough to at least tell me when you are going to disappear.” The sound of her voice breaking hurt so much more than he could have ever anticipated.   
“I’m so sorry. I do trust you, I do. I wasn’t thinking straight, I needed to get away.” He tried to explain.   
“Buck that’s bullshit. You have to talk to me. You know I’m here for you.”   
“I know,” He said in a tiny voice. “I’ll do better next time, I promise.”   
“I know you will.” There was a comfortable silence for a few seconds before Claire spoke again. I’m glad you’re okay. I love you, you asshole.” Bucky smiled almost bashfully.   
“I love you too.” He heard the faint beeping that signaled the end of the call. Bucky smiled to himself. He just sat staring at the cracks of the wall until it was too dark to see them anymore. 

\- - -

Bucky lay on his back unable to sleep. The swirl of thoughts form that morning had decided to plague him again, and keep him from sleep. He sighed and sat up, pulling a flashlight and a notebook from his bag. He flipped to the page he had started earlier in the museum. He needed a list on paper, something concrete to combat the voices whose mission was to pull him down. He stared at the three names at the top of the page for a while as he thought. Beneath the names he added cats. It took several more minutes of thinking before he added dancing to the list. He thought adding things would get easier as he went along, but each item took a great deal of contemplation. It was about two hours later when he finally decided his list was complete with seventeen items. He sighed contentedly at his list before entitling it: reasons to stay. This would hopefully keep those inner demons at bay when they crept back in again. He knew they would be back, but at least he had reasons to fight them, to keep them away, and not let them consume him. He could be strong. For the people at the top of that list, and so he could experience all the rest that list had to offer. Bucky finally felt he had a reason to be here. There were people counting on him. With that thought he closed his notebook, turned off the light, and lay back down to sleep. 

He had accomplished so much today. Tomorrow he would find Steve. The one person who could help fill in the biggest blanks, the person who was supposed to know the most about him. He had a goal. Bucky could keep going. He had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my new internet friend. She's on tumblr at sheflieswithherowndamnwings. She's hella dope and the only reason this is being published today, instead of like 3 days from now...
> 
> Anyway if you are interested, the items on Bucky's list are as follows:
> 
> Steve  
> Claire  
> Veronika  
> Cats  
> Dancing  
> Long naps  
> Delicate wildflowers  
> Punk Rock (especially Nofx, The Sex Pistols, Dead Kennedys, the Ramones, and the Misfits)  
> Huge piles of pillows and blankets  
> Pinterest  
> Making people laugh when they are mad  
> Plums  
> Steaming hot showers  
> Long drives in the middle of nowhere  
> Talking late at night when all walls are down  
> Science  
> Art museums


	4. Daybreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky goes to find Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SORRY I HAVEN'T POSTED IN FOREVER! The combination of travel, and then being almost killed by germs made writing a bit difficult. Thank you for your patience.

Bucky checked the small scrap of paper in his hand with the address of the building in front of him. It really was Steve’s apartment. Never before had a door looked so daunting. Bucky shook himself mentally. He was being stupid this was Steve, his childhood best friend. Yeah he had tried to kill Steve last time they were together, but that hadn’t really been him. Bucky knew Steve would understand. At least Bucky hoped he would. He knocked on the door listening for any sign that someone was inside. There was no movement, not lights flipped on. Steve clearly wasn’t home. Bucky turned, walked down the steps, and ambled down the street at a leisurely pace, just soaking up the stupid swamp town because for some reason we can’t be in New York City. It was beautiful, he could see why Steve chose to live here. A pang of guilt struck him as he spotted a couple meandering down the street laughing.

The girl put her head on the man’s shoulder as they walking. Bucky could see their love for each other from across the street. He had a chance to have that, to be in love, to be happy, but he chose to leave. He had chosen his path. He wished that he had thought through more his life with Claire before deserting her. Seeing this couple made his heart ache for her, for a friend for anyone. Bucky had never felt so alone as he watched these happy people walk down the street seeing nothing but each other. Bucky found himself following them without meaning to. Something about the man was achingly familiar. It was something about the way he held himself and the way that he walked. It wasn’t until the man sweetly kissed his date and bid her a good night that it stuck him. It was Steve Rogers. 

But this definitely wasn’t the scrawny, asthmatic kid from Brooklyn that he remembered. Bucky stood silent as Steve put his hands in his pockets and walked away with a spring in his step. Memories slowly trickled back, being captured then rescued by and enhanced Steve. The moron had let scientists experiment on him. The memory of their mission together was the last time he had been himself. Before he fell, was taken, brainwashed, tortured, and turned into a monster. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut those memories out. He instead tried to recall their fight on the helicarrier. The last time he’d seen Steve. He had been so confused. Even the memories of it felt almost off. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut trying to find a happy memory that made sense. The night before he left he had tried to take Steve with him for a double date. That night was clear. 

science fair, Steve running off to try and enlist for about the 8th time. He was always resilient. He missed Steve, but here he was now. On his way home from a date. Bucky smiled a real, genuine smile. He felt almost like himself, before the war, before HYDRA, before the Winter Soldier. Bucky crossed the street to meet Steve with a quiet, untold joy.  
“Hey, punk!” he called. “It’s nice to see you out with a girl I didn’t set you up with.” Steve turned so quickly it almost gave Bucky whiplash just from watching. “Bucky?” Steve asked in almost a whisper. Bucky spread his arms. “Alive and un-brainwashed.” 

It was almost two hours later when Bucky pushed himself back from Steve’s kitchen table with a sigh. It felt almost euphoric to tell Steve everything. There was no judgement, no pressure, with Steve there never was. It felt almost normal. AS normal as they could be considering that both of them were almost a century old super soldiers. Steve ran his hand over his face. “Wow, Buck. I had no idea.” Bucky pressed his lips together unsure of what to say now. His whole story from when he fell from that freight car to now wasn’t solely his to carry. He loved Claire, but she could never truly understand what it was to be like him: a tortured person out of time struggling to regain a sense of self. Steve could understand that, or at least most of it.  
“Yeah.” Bucky said.  
“So this girl.” Steve started. Bucky searched Steve’s face trying to relearn his person, and gauge what he would say. “She sounds amazing. She’s so perfect for you…” The corners of Bucky’s lips twitched upwards.  
“She is.” He confirmed.  
“Then you need to go back to her. I’m the world’s leading expert in waiting too long. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Go get her!” Bucky dropped his eyes to his lap nodding. “I know I should, but I’m still a mess. What if I can’t control myself and something happens again. She’ll hate me.“ he paused. “I can’t have her hate me. I just couldn’t live with that.”  
“Bucky,” Steve started. “If this girl is half of what you say she is she won’t hate you, ever. It sounds like she’s really helping you.” Bucky rubbed at a spot on the table.  
“She is. I’m just not sure if I can be the best for her when I’m still trying to adjust to everything.” Bucky glanced up catching Steve’s eye. His look wasn’t sympathetic like Bucky expected. It was full of understanding.

“I’m still adjusting too, Buck. People make that easier.” Bucky stared at his friend. Steve was different. He was still Steve, but so much wiser, and almost more worn. “The world is full of broken people, Bucky. You just have to find someone who makes you feel whole.” Bucky chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.  
“Does she make you feel like that?” Bucky nodded. “Then that’ll solve your problems. It’ll take time, but if you find someone who gets you, and helps you, you can get through things.” Bucky looked up at Steve.  
“Is that what the girl back there does for you?” he asked playfully. Steve exhaled through his nose and looked out the window. “Yeah. She does.” Bucky ran a hand through his hair. “It’s good to have you back, Steve.” Bucky said with a small smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I've kinda fallen for Bucky. His character is so interesting, and I really just wanted to explore more of who he is.


End file.
